Novus Annus
by DewNymph
Summary: A new year dawns on the ministry, and for a group of trainees and their mentors life will never be the same again. Each has their cross to bare, but will they make it through the other side without their pasts interfering with the present?
1. The Beginning

The ministry of magic was abuzz with the start of the new training year. Ministry workers struggled to get through the mass of students, some tutting, some remembering their first day. At around half past nine the fireplaces quietened. Apart from a few latecomers, the remaining people were students. Around a hundred of them filled the tiled hall of the atrium. Most didn't know anyone else in the crowd, what they should be doing or where they should be doing it. All any of them knew was that today was the start of a fascinating but very hard career. Some had been in the same year at Hogwarts, some came from other wizarding schools all over the globe and some were a little older having decided to take a gap year, or had been saving to pay the fees. All their apprehension came to an excited halt as a red-robed ministry worker made his way to the front of the group. He climbed some steps leading to a small door and aimed his wand at his throat.

"All trainees follow me into the conference theatre. Make sure you pick up an appropriate training pack on your way in which will explain this week's programme schedule."

The crowd surged forward, everyone trying to squeeze through the little door at once. The door led to a corridor filled with tables of literature. At the end was another door which opened out into a large amphitheatre. People pushed and shoved as they made their way through.

"It's just like Glastonbury," said a large blonde Welsh boy.

"Only less fun," replied a pink haired girl, before she was swept away in the crowd.

"There can't be this many Aurors surely," the Welsh boy said to no-one in particular. A confident voice behind him replied.

"There aren't. Aurors, Healers, hit-wizards, obliviators, Legilipsychs, everyone starts their training here."

He turned to see an attractive older woman a little shorter than himself. There were tiny streaks of lime green in her chocolate brown hair that intrigued him, as did the long satin glove on her left arm. It was far too muggy outside for it to be of any practical use. Perhaps it was some sort of weird fashion statement, Harley pondered.

"You sound...experienced," he said. "Have you done this before?"

"I have," she said flatly, gazing uninterested at the door ahead as it crept closer.

"I'm Harley by the way, Harley Jones," he stuck out his hand rather hopefully. The woman took it, not making eye-contact.

"Adrue Symonds, enchanté j'suis sûr." Harley wasn't entirely sure what she'd said, but it sounded sarcastic.

"So you're French then?"

"No." Adrue wasn't really in the mood for making friends. "Do I sound French to you?"

"Not really." God this woman is hard work, Harley thought as they ambled through the door. "So how come you've done this before?"

"Not that it's any of you're business, but I failed last time." She seemed to be relaxing to him. "I really wouldn't recommend it. But I bet if you tried really hard they'd kick you out so you can go back to your flock muscle-boy."

"Oh a sheep gag? Well that's original."

Adrue shushed him as they sat down together. As the crowd settled down in front of the speaking platform, Harley spotted the pink-haired girl in the row in front. He tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around grinning and waving. Adrue gestured towards the front where the red-robed man had taken his position behind the lectern.

"Settle down people, settle down." He waited for the rumbling chatter to subside.

"Good morning everyone. My name is Phillip Secundus and I am your ministry training co-ordinator for this year. My office is on the second floor, any problems you see me. Now, if you'll all turn to page two of your programme schedule. As you can see, today will mostly consist of a building tour, time tabling, tutor introductions, some team building..."

Harley zoned out. The pompous twit in front of him was much less fascinating than the two lovely women he'd just met. Well, he corrected himself, one lovely woman and one ice maiden. He glanced across at the programme on Adrue's lap. Like him, she'd picked up the Auror version. Brill, he thought. If there was one thing he liked more than a beautiful woman, it was a complicated one and he'd have plenty of time to work on her. He turned to face the front, surprised to spot a tiny subuteo player stuck in the mass of bubblegum hair. Only when the hair's owner stood up was Harley brought back to planet Earth. Everyone was filing out of the auditorium and forming groups behind the tutors.

"Are you going to sit there all day?" Adrue had collected her belongings and was waiting for him to do the same.

"What's going on?" He hurriedly threw his things back in his backpack and stood up.

"We're splitting into occupation groups, weren't you listening?" Adrue rolled her eyes at him and shoved him down the steps. She pointed him in the direction of their instructor. He was a dapper, Victorian looking man dressed head to toe in crushed velvet. Harley counted only thirteen people queuing up ahead of him, there mustn't have been many accepted this year.

Without a word, the man lead his group through the ministry to a small room on the second floor. It was decked out half like a Hogwarts classroom, half like an office. The instructor held the door open for everyone then closed the door behind him as they found seats behind the small desks. He strode to the front and addressed them in his calm received pronunciation.

"Good morning trainees, I am Basil Rookwood and I shall be your instructor as you learn the ways of the Auror. This job is not for the fainthearted. No-one will think any less of you if you decide at any point you do not wish to continue. Look after your fellow classmates, for the next three years they are your family. They will be your eyes and your ears, your back up, your life line. You will lay down your life for them, as they will for you. The Dark Arts gives no second chances, no escape routes. From now on you will eat, you will sleep, you will breathe the good fight." Basil raised his hands biblically to his students.

"Welcome to the rest of your life."


	2. Ice Breaking

Basil Looked at his pocket watch and then one of the pieces of paper scattered across his desk. He perched himself on the corner and waited a moment for the teens to stop gawping.

"Right, well seeing as your ministry tour isn't scheduled until after lunch, lets get to know each other a little. Break the ice."

Adrue rolled her eyes. She'd hated this the first time round, now she had to do it all again with a bunch of kids. True she wasn't much older than her classmates in years, but she'd done alot more growing up than they had.

"Shall I begin then?" Ventured Basil. "Well you know my name already, lets see. I'm from Harrogate, my father was a politician, I've been in this job for two years now, making you chaps my third lot of first years. My favourite colour is blue, I love ice cream and I hate cats. Who's next?"

"Um, my name is Priya," a small plump Indian girl spoke from the back row. "I am from Bankura, India, my father brought me to England to study. He is a healer, one of the best. My mother and three brothers are back home and I miss India very much. It's very cold, but I like it here."

"I imagine the weather came as quite a shock," Basil laughed. The girl blushed at the attention. She looked familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Lovely to meet you Priya. Who's next?"

"I'm Adrue," she said bluntly. "I'm from Croydon but I was raised in Marseilles by my muggle father. I much prefer plants to people. I completed the first two years of this course when I first left Beaubatons, but I...had to leave, so I'm starting again."

"You'll be able to give me a hand then yes? You probably know the training programme better than I," Basil laughed. " Someone else?"

The pink-haired girl raised her hand. "I'll go. My name's Tonks, just Tonks and I'm from right here in London. My dad works upstairs so..."

She was cut off by a knock on the door. A tall, thin, dark haired lad popped his pockmarked face around the door frame.

"Sorry, is this Auror training?"

"Yes it is boy, and you are?"

"Reggie Parsons sir," he was a little out of breath and beaming with excitement. "So sorry I'm late, but my sister-in-law just had twins."

Some of the girls squealed as he passed a photo around. It showed a very exhausted looking raven haired woman and two pink wrinkly babies, their faces screwed up as they cried silently.

"Do they have names?" Asked Priya.

"Yep, Albert and Arthur. Don't ask me which one's which though."

"How wonderful, do find a desk and we shall carry on." Basil gestured for him to sit down. "Do continue Tonks dear."

"Right, so, well I'm a metamorphmagus. Seventh this century, so I can look like whatever I want, but don't worry, you'll probably hear me coming. I'm a big klutz, always walking into stuff. And I love rock music."

"Very interesting bunch this year I see." Basil pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat.

"Goodness me, well fascinating as this is, we shall have to leave it there for now or you'll miss your lunch slot. Lets see," he looked around at the name badges. "Mortimer, Harlequin and Reggie or course, we'll hear from you after the tour. Does anyone know the way to the canteen?"

"I do," piped Tonks.

"Jolly good, I shall see you in the atrium in an hour. Off you pop."

As they pattered out, Basil sat down at his desk at the head of the empty classroom. He rummaged around the desktop for his class roster. There was something eerily familiar about the Priya girl and he had to know if his suspicions were correct. Kolkata accent, healer father, it would all fit if only he could find her name. He scanned his list. His finger trailed down the page until he came to the 'S's. Priya Shah-Singh. No, he thought, this can't be happening. His heart pounded in his chest as he slumped back in his chair, fingering the gold band around his neck. He couldn't be back, not after all this time, not with four children in tow, it wasn't possible. Basil was just getting his life in order, this was the last thing he needed but he had to deal with the fact it had already happened. After nearly twenty years of absence Lawrence was bouncing back into his life and he wanted to scream. He just wished he knew whether it would be a scream of elation or of pain.


	3. Exploration

The group returned to the tiled hall, expecting to find someone waiting fo them. There was no-one. They saw only a few ministry workers going about their business and a group of healer trainees heading the way they had just come.

"Wasn't that Rookwood bloke meant to be here?" Asked Morti.

"He said he would be," said Priya. "But he didn't look terribly organised to me, perhaps he is late?"

"How professional," Adrue muttered.

"Now now Adrue, even teachers have a personal life," Basil stepped out from one of the fireplaces behind them. He strolled past them along the line of hearths towards the rear of the hall. There was a little soot on his blue cloak but he didn't bother to brush it off. He had noticed his cravat was askew and adjusted it. The group exchanged confused looks, not moving from their spot.

"Get a move on chaps, we haven't got all day," he said, waving for them to follow. He muttered under his breath. "Well that's not strictly true."

He stopped at the far most fireplace and turned to face them. It was dark and dusty, it looked broken.

"This fireplace leads to ministry training facilities only. Any unauthorised personnel attempting to use it will simply end up in a holding cell looking down the wand of a senior hit-wizard. In short, don't bring your friends." He gave out handfuls of floo powder to his students then gestured to them to enter.

"All you have to say is 'Ministry Training Grounds'. I shall see you all there."

They all lined up hesitantly, clutching their powder. Harley stepped up to go first, then they all followed, one by one. When they were all through Basil did the same. They arrived at the end of a long narrow hallway. There was another similarly broken looking fireplace at the other end of the hall. There were also countless arched doorways coming off it, all of them presumably lead somewhere, but they were each covered by dark, heavy curtains. Strange symbols were etched into the wall above them. Each one was different, they were almost heraldic in appearance. The students counted nine doorways in all. Basil lead them to one on the right, the symbol above it looked like a small snow-covered mountain peak.

Basil pulled back the curtain to reveal a reasonably large recreation area. One corner had been designed as a kitchen, while the rest of the room contained desks, tables and soft chairs. There was a large notice board on the far wall and a small door to the left of it.

The students circled the room slowly like lost sheep, looking around awaiting instructions.

"You can sit down if you like," Basil rolled his eyes. He might have to spoon feed this lot after all. There weren't enough seats for the whole class so some had to perch of the arms of chairs.

"Right, as you may have already surmised, this is the rec. room. Use it as often as you like for whatever you like. There are bathing facilities and a small locker each through there," he said pointing to the door. He was met by a few confused looks. "Trust me, you'll need them. There are eight other rooms in the complex, one of which is the staff room, out of bounds obviously. We also have a reference library, a state of the art potions laboratory, a quiet study room, the examination room, a flying practice area and the field hospital. Oh, and the simulator. But that'll be locked until you pass your first exam. Which is in a month. Sorry."

Groans rippled through the room as the group exchanged looks of horror.

"There's no need to panic chaps, it's really only to see what you know so far, how much work needs to be done to get you up to scratch. As far as I know not one person has failed the first year version since it was introduced, you'll be fine."

As Basil spoke a figure emerged from the darkened doorway. A large, looming man limped across to the kitchen area. His scarred face had a fresh deep gash across one cheek that he dabbed at with the back of his hand. He didn't so much as glance in the direction of the group but began throwing open cupboard doors and rummaging in them. The students stared at him, both intrigued and amused.

"This the new batch then Rookwood?" The man asked gruffly.

"Indeed," Basil replied. "Everyone, it is my pleasure to introduce Alastor Moody. He instructs the upper years, but will assist with your field work."

"They look soft," he said, as if they weren't in the room. "One good spell and they'd be crying to their mams."

"I think you'll find they're a lovely and very capable lot," Basil defended. "Do your students know you're stealing their tea bags?"

"Bloody Secundus nicked 'em all outa the staff room," Moody explained. "Sod's posh enough, you'd think he could afford his own."

"Perhaps he was concerned about staff caffeine levels?" Ventured Basil. "You are a little edgy today Alastor."

"That's because someone's been playing silly buggers in the study room." Moody's choice of words was less than subtle.

"A word Alastor?" He gestured to the door then readdressed his students. "Do excuse us for one moment, have a wander round, familiarise yourselves with the lockers and such."

Basil followed Moody to the corridor, checked no-one was there and began his tongue-lashing.

"If you have a grievance with me, bring it to me or our superiors or both. Do not involve my students, it is most unprofessional."

"Don't talk to me about professional, I saw what you and that librarian get up to," spat Moody. "After hours is one thing, but lunchtime is quite another."

"Alastor perhaps you will find the phrase 'selective vigilance' most appropriate here," Basil said, still smirking. "You don't have to peer through walls simply because you can. Unless of course voyeurism is your thing?"

"Other people have to use that room Rookwood," he said, ignoring the accusation. "And they should be able to without _you people_ doing... it's disgusting."

"I quite agree," he said. "But damned good fun."

"I'll have to take yer word for it," growled Moody. "Secundus was in the hall you know, sniffing around. I won't cover for you again, next time it'll be yer job, understand?"

"Very well, but if you value your morality and your remaining limbs you would be best keeping that eye of yours out of my office, are we clear?"

Moody snorted. "Don't you threaten me boy, I've killed more dark wizards than you've had hot dinners."

"All by the book I'm sure."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"We all have skeletons in our cupboards Alastor. If one were to be let free, I've no doubt the rest would come tumbling out of their own accord." Basil smiled again. "Now I really must get back to my students, they've been neglected quite long enough."

Moody rolled his eyes and stomped off down the corridor, then dissappeared from the St. Mungo's fireplace in a puff of green flame. Basil took a long deep breath. He had to be more careful in future. No, he corrected, he had to stop completely. It was like a bad habit he couldn't shake, he'd lost count of his conquests years ago and he regretted every single one. As much as he wanted it to, quantity could never replace quality. Lust without love was meaningless. But that had been beyond his control, or so he told himself. He'd pretended he was quite happy and proud of his lifestyle, but in reality he was ashamed and alone. Most days he just plodded along waiting for the next fling, but today he'd gone off fornicating and had felt ill. It was no way for a respectable Auror to behave and Moody was right, it would cost him his job one of these days. Perhaps I could switch to drink, he mused. After all, he only did it forget. But now forgetting would be pointless, not to mention impossible, especially once the first years started liasing with the healers. Basil decided there was no avoiding it. He needed to comfront it head on, get rid of some of his pent-up rage. It was about time too. First thing on Monday he'd take them all to St. Mungo's and get it over with. A little early perhaps, but it had to be done and he could always fiddle with the time-tables later. He remembered a line from one of his favourite muggle films.

_You gotta do what you gotta do._


End file.
